A 1967 Red Corvette
by the inc pot
Summary: A 1967 Red Corvette can hold quite a few memories: A beautiful Trory people have been asking me to write.
1. Sooner or Later Obituaries

**A 1967 Red Corvette**

**By:** Bethany Inc.

**A story for Trory addicts**

A 1967 Red Corvette can hold quite a few memories: A beautiful Trory people have been asking me to write.

_Run around day and night barely never time to fight _

_We're different from all the rest_

_How do you do it, putting up with me_

_Let me tell you baby you're the best_

_Well, it makes no sense having us apart_

_You'd have to see it or you'd be blind_

_When we're together I'm so confused_

_When we're apart your on my mind_

_Let's take a break from our life all the pain all the strife_

_It sounds too good to be true_

_Living my life and singing my songs_

And yes, baby I've got you 

"When had I become such a sucker for happy endings? Oh yes, that's right, when mine was fucking taking me from that son of a bitch we have to call a father. The jackass – shipping me off to North Carolina like he was doing _me_ a favor. What a fucking dumbass… I hope he knows it's just going to back fire. Seriously, I'm going to give him fucking shit, Tricia!" I snapped into my phone, leaning against the passenger side door of my '67 red corvette. I was stalling – I didn't want to go inside and face the consequences of what I had just done.

My sister sighed into her end of the phone, and I could see her shaking her head at my vulgarity. I couldn't help it! I was ripped shit about how much of a jackass my father was being, "Tristan," she sighed, "I can't help you out of this."

"Tricia, you're married! You have a two year old! Let me move in with you – you're his golden child. He'll listen to you."

"Tristan," she said again, and now I definitely could see her shaking her head, "You brought this upon yourself. You shouldn't have broken into that safe."

"I was an idiot!"

"Was?"

"Fine, I still am! But come on – I always do stupid shit like this! Why does he have to ship me off to fucking hick town, USA over some stupid stunt? It's not like we got away with it, and it's a month later when his dad sobers up and tries to find money to pay his stupid hooker!"

"I'll call dad." She relented, and I heard Laura squeal in the background: 'Grampy'.

"Thank you."

"I wouldn't consider yourself off the hook, Tristan."

"I won't. Call me." I hung up my cell phone, and tossed my cigarette bud to the ground, crushing it with the toe of my sandal. I ran a hand through my hair, and pulled my jacket a bit tighter over my torso, heading towards the door that led into the school auditorium.

Maybe I wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of what I did until after the little skit tonight. My father wasn't one to make a scene in public – so that's my answer. Stay in a crowd the entire night and wait for the fucking storm to cop a landing as soon as I walk inside the foyer tonight.

Sounds like a pretty fool proo--- "Tristan Orion Dugrey!"

Shit, "What?" I snarl, not even bothering to stop, or glance over my shoulder to meet the cold glare my father was most certainly giving my back.

"Oh don't you give me that 'The-Devil-may-care' attitude, Tristan." He hissed, grabbing my shoulder, and swinging me around. I winced slightly as he pressed into a pressure point, "I didn't break into that stupid safe—you did. You idiot! What in God's name were you thinking? No, don't answer that! Obviously you weren't!"

"Shut up," I snapped, backing away from his grip, and shaking my head, "Why do you fucking care? I messed up – I get it. Now let's build a bridge and get the hell over it."

My father threw his head back, and let out what I supposed was a menacing chuckle before meeting my glare straight on, "You don't get it, do you Tristan?"

"Get _what_?"

"This wasn't some stupid prank that I can wipe away with a blink of an eye, Tristan!" He growled, clenching his fist – I could here his knuckles cracking. I made a face: he knew I couldn't stand the sound of cracking knuckles, or any other body part for that matter, "What you did was illegal! You're lucky the police are letting the parents handle this or you'd be sitting in a four by six cell right now with a fucking toilet in the corner! Do you understand me?"

"Whatever," I shrug, pulling the carton of Marlboros out of my pocket, pulling a thin stick out, and putting it in my mouth. I put the carton back inside my pocket, and fish around for my lighter, quickly lighting my cigarette and inhaling, "It's not like shipping me off to the boonies is gonna do much, either."

"It's better then letting you screw up here."

"How? Give me one good reason why sending me out of here is better then letting me stay? What's the logic behind that, oh great one?" I took a long drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke nestle every crook of my mouth, before letting the smoke come out in a wisp. I tapped my foot impatiently while I watched my father shake his head and sigh, "Well?"

"You want a good reason, Tristan? Well here's a good reason: So you won't end up fucking six feet under like Tyler. So you won't get a fucking girl pregnant and drive yourself to drink away your little mistake. You need another reason, Tristan? Because believe me, I can give you a hold handful."

I laughed bitterly, and flicked ashes to the ground, and shake my head, "What the fuck is your problem, dad? Why would you ever – I mean _ever_ bring Tyler up? What the hell is your problem?"

"You're my problem, Tristan! You have no regard for the rules! No respect for your mother or I – and the only thing we've ever done is try and give you the world!"

"Maybe I don't _want_ the world!" I yelled, flinging my cigarette to the ground, half smoked. "Maybe that's not what I fuckin' want. Have you thought about that? Maybe I just want parents that aren't so caught up in their own lives that they notice someone else besides them fucking selves! Maybe I want the attention, okay? Maybe I need someone who I can look up too—who the hell else is there? You certainly weren't it! Tyler did one stupid thing, and he died because of it! God – he was a great person – but he died! Your pride and joy died and you act like you're the only one who had the right to grieve!"

He shook his head, and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me in what I assumed was a manly hug. I hesitated, not particularly liking this newfound action on his part. I wrapped my arms around him, and sighed, "I just wanted the attention," I sigh.

"I know."

"I'm sorry," I say, pulling away from him, and running my hand through my hair, trying to regain some of the masculinity I'd just lost by hugging my father. I shove my hands into my jeans pocket, and shrug.

My dad dug his hand into his front pocket of his trousers, and pulled out his cell phone. He always had it on vibrate – so it wouldn't interrupt heated arguments like the one we had just had. He sighed slightly, "Charles Dugrey – talk to me." I dug around in pocket again, pulling out my Marlboros, pulling one out, and lighting it the second my lighter was out of my pocket. I shoved the carton away, half listening to my dad's one sided conversation, "Tricia, you're not serious." I smirk somewhat, blowing a ring of smoke out of my mouth. I knew Tricia would always come through for me, "Why would you want him to live with you? –pause—Because you know he's a good kid? Have you met your brother?"

Tricia raises her voice – a thing she never does with anyone, I can hear her, and I smile. I love my sister, even if she did need to grow a spine somewhat, "Fine. Tomorrow. He moves in with you for a month and if he doesn't straighten out – he's gone, Tricia. I meant it."

"Gee, talk like I'm not standing four fucking feet away from you," I sigh, flicking ashes to the ground, letting my gaze flicker over the lit parking lot. I don't exactly know what I was looking for – maybe I was just looking for her. But that was ridiculous, she was inside with her mother and no doubt bag boy.

God, what an asswipe. He didn't deserve a girl like her – hell, I didn't deserve a girl like her. I knew that, she knew that, her mother knew that, Jesus Christ! Every damn person in Chilton knew I didn't deserve her. But God, did I want her. I want her so bad, it hurt my insides just to think about it.

"Tristan," my father said, clamping a hand on my shoulder, "You're moving in with your sister."

"Okay."

"I don't want any bad behavior for the next month."

"I know."

"I don't want one single call from school, or from your sister. If I get one damn call Tristan, I'll have your neck."

"I know."

"You better not think Tricia will always be around to save your neck."

"I don't."

"Get your ass inside, and Jesus, Tristan – quit smoking. You're going to kill yourself."

"We all die sooner or later – I'd rather my obituary be in the paper sooner," I say, and crush the butt of my cigarette on pavement with the heel of my left sandal. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket, and head through the already open doors of the auditorium.

I knew Paris was bound to be having a fit by now – I was twenty minutes late. I shrugged; hey, if I could handle Bowman's dad, two police officers, my grandfather, and my father, what as a little Paris thrown on top? I shook my head, and gave a few confident smirks at a few girls in the audience, and headed backstage.

Man, was I right. Paris was throwing a fit, and it seemed like Rory was on the receiving end. "I knew he was going to do this, but no one wanted to listen to me. It was all, let's make Tristin Romeo, he's hot."

"What about Brad?"

"Brad transferred schools," Paris sighed, and I smirked, deciding now was better then ever to make my presence known to the two lovely ladies in front of me. Paris saw me first, and if looks could kill, man would I be dead, "Where have you been? You have to get dressed, we're on in ten minutes."

"Are you going to help me get dressed?" I leer, a smirk fully intact on my face.

"Dolt!" she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air, "Get dressed. Now, and I mean it Tristan – we're on in ten minutes and if you are not ready I will hang you by your toes from the chandelier in the entrance hall. I have connections, Tristan – no one will know it was me."

"I will," Rory chimed, and I laughed, slinging my arm around her shoulder.

"Yes, Mary will know." I watched Rory make a face, and move away from what I had declared inside my head as a friendly gesture.

"Ugh! Get dressed now!"

I nod, and looked around for my costume, "And what will I be dressing in for this oh so lovely skit?" I looked back to wear Paris was just standing, and I was surprised not to find her still standing there, "Where'd she go?"

"Here," she said from behind me, making me jump.

I sighed, and scrunched my face up, taking the costume from her hands ."Thanks," I say, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, shoving me forward, and steering me into an empty classroom.

"Change."

I shrug my jacket off, throwing it on one of the school desks, before pulling my polo up and over my head, placing it directly on top of my jacket. "Here you forgot your sh— Oh man, I'm sorry.. Oh god."

I turn quickly, and smirk. I rose my left eyebrow, and tilt my head to the side, taking in the look on Rory's face. I flex my muscles slightly as I go to shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, "Can I help you with something, Mary?"

Rory closed her eyes, and made her way towards me, "Shoes. Here. You forgot them."

I laughed, and took the shoes from her hands, placing them on one of the desks next to me, "You can open your eyes Mary – it's not like I have a huge stomach, and man boobs. I think I look pretty decent without a shirt on, don't you?" A blush overcame her cheeks, and I chuckled, grabbing the shirt of the costume, and pulling it over my head, shoving my arms through the sleeves, "I'm decent."

"Oh good," she sighs, and opens her eyes, cracking a smile, albeit a weak one. "I'm sorry," she says, biting on the corner of her lower lip, "I thought.. well… I thought you'd be done or looking the costume over.. I didn't mean to walk in on you… undressing. Oh man, that sounds really dirty."

"Rory?" Oh shit, here comes bag boy. Exactly what I fucking need – that insipid jackass walking in here. "Hey Ror," he says, walking into the room, stopping when he sees me, "Accountant." He snarls, walking behind Rory, and wrapping his arms around her waist, "Is he bothering you, Ror?"

"No," she says, giving me a stronger smile, before turning to look at Dean, "I was just giving him his shoes."

"Oh," he nods, giving me a death glare, before grabbing her hand, "Your mom wants to talk to you. Let's go." She nods, and lets him pull her from the room.

"See you in a few," she calls to me, turning the corner.

I shook my head, and let out a hot breath of air: I really needed a cigarette. I finished getting out of my regular clothes, and redressed myself in this ridiculous costume Rory's mother made. It was nice, albeit far from what I would have liked to wear. I slipped the shoes on, groaning that I wouldn't have socks to wear—Jesus would my feet smell after this stupid skit.

I folded my clothes, and rolled my neck on my shoulders, leaving the classroom. I stopped in the doorway, and looked back at my clothes, and then towards the door I'd walked in through a few minutes ago – did I have time for a cigarette?

"Tristan!" Paris hissed, rounding the corner, and grabbing a hold of my wrist, "We're on in two minutes! Get your ass moving!"

I followed her, relentlessly letting her have a death grip on my wrist, "Christ, Gellar," I groan, shaking my head, "You act like this is Broadway."

"It is Broadway, jackass," she hisses, and I can tell that we're near the other group that was still performing on stage by the volume of her voice, "It's the Broadway of Chilton tonight, and if you screw up, I'll kill you."

"Now isn't that encouraging." I tease, loosening my wrist from her grip, peaking in between the curtains with her – waiting to see if someone on stage screwed up.

---GG---

The moment I had been waiting for was coming, and I had to say I was pretty excited about kissing Rory Gilmore in front of all those people. It was satisfaction knowing that I could make her boyfriend steam with anger when I'd ever so gently coerce a kiss from his girlfriend in front of him – and know that he couldn't do one damn thing about my lips on hers.

I held back my smirk, as I ran my hand across Rory's forehead, taking in her beauty, "A dateless bargain to engrossing death!" I stage whisper, leaning down and planting a kiss on Rory's forehead, "Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark!" I raised a glass bottle up to my lips, keeping my eyes on Rory's eyelids the entire time, "Here's to my love! Oh true apothecary! ….. Thy drugs are quick." I moaned, resting a hand on Rory's waist, "Thus… with a kiss, I die.." I ran my lips over hers, softly at first, but with a little bit more force towards the end – and I could swear I felt her lips moving against mine, reciprocating my dying kiss.

I bite the inside of my cheek, and lay my head on her chest, and close my eyes. I'm dead, and I can't think of any better way to die then having my head on Rory's chest. I can hear her heart beat thumping inside her rib cage, and can hear her shallow breaths coming from her nostrils.

---GG---

"You did good," Rory says, as soon as the curtain closes, and I reluctantly lift my head from her chest, "I mean.. with the whole kissing thing… I was half expecting you to shove your tongue down my throat." She laughs, and pulls her Juliet hat off of her head, holding it against her chest with her arms as she follows me off stage.

I smile over my shoulder at her, "Do you want me too?" I asked, walking backwards to face her.

She blushes, and looks towards the door to where bag boy and her mother were waiting for her, "I'll take a rain check." She says, walking towards the girl's bathroom.

I watch her walk away, and smirk – I'd take whatever contact I could get from Rory Gilmore.

---GG---

"He broke up with me," Rory said as soon as I made my way to lean against the locker next to hers, "Do you want to know why Dean broke up with me, Tristan?"

"I have the tiniest idea you'd tell me anyway if I said no – so yes. I do want to know why he broke up with you… _Again_."

"Because of you," she said, opening her locker, and slamming her book bag onto the ground. Well if that wasn't a bomb, and the explosion in my gut wasn't it's explosion, I didn't know what was, "And because of Jess. Apparently he can't trust me hanging around with so _many_ guys – meaning, just you and Jess. What a jerk."

It'd been three months since the play, and I have to say that the relationship I'd developed with Rory after her hint at a rain check for me sticking my tongue down her throat had become enjoyable. I hadn't kissed her since our stage kiss – but man, had I thought about tossing her onto my bed and having my way with her.

I wouldn't though – if a girl said no, a girl said no. And Rory had said no plenty of times – albeit, she'd just been thinking I was messing with her. It was nice, having Rory as a friend and beings able to call her, or just hang out with her without a hidden agenda. Although, my agenda wasn't exactly hidden.

I shook my head, and tucked a strand of Rory's hair behind her ear for her, and roll my eyes, "Well if I was bag boy, I'd be pretty jealous of me too." I teased, sticking my hands in my blazer pockets, fingering my carton of cigarettes and lighter. "So," I said, as she slammed her locker closed, and picked her book bag up off the ground, slinging it onto her shoulders, "When'd he do it?"

"This morning," she sighed, shaking her head, "at Luke's. He did it in front of my mother, Luke – everyone. I'm the talk of the town."

"Haven't you always been?" I asked, as we made our way across the school. I throw my hand over my mouth and yawn, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

"No – yes. Well, somewhat."

"Care to broaden that horizon, Mary?"

"No," she said, turning and looking at me. She glanced at my hands in my pocket, and gave me a knowing look, "Go kill yourself, Tristan." She said with a smile, and stepping into her homeroom.

Oh you slay me, Rory Gilmore. I walked away, heading for the front doors – I'd never fully understand how her mind worked.

Two months ago I was _graced_ with the lovely privilege of moving back into the mansion my parents and I called home. I'd been on my best behavior since Rory had given me the chance to be her friend. It worked—of course I was still prone to doing stupid shit that always got me into a smidgeon of trouble – but hey, I'm a Dugrey and Dugrey's can worm their way out of anything.

I pulled a fresh cigarette out of my pocket, and sat on the front steps as I lit it. I breathed in about four thousand chemicals, and it felt good. I was killing myself off slowly – and baby I liked the feeling.

---GG---

**Author Note:** This is my first ultimate Trory. I've started many before – but they've always turned into a different Romance. I think this will be up to the standards of all my readers – Don't you all think?

I just randomly started this – I intended this to be a one-shot – but I don't know how to get them together in one chapter… I've tried one-shots before, and believe me dolls, I am not good at it – I wouldn't even get a yellow ribbon for attempting to be a one-shot writer.

I don't know how much I'll update this – but I will let you all know this probably won't go over ten chapters – and I'll probably only update once or twice a month – hey, I've got two other fanfictions going on right now, and I'm not like Kellie – I can't keep up with eighteen stories at a time.

If you all haven't heard of Kellie (jmarit17) I suggest you read all of her stuff – they're amazing, and most of them are Trories for you Trory addicts out there.

So – read and review. Reviews make my day worthwhile – it's like a high, I don't know what else to say about them!

3 Bethany


	2. A Little Dose of Something

**Chapter Two:** A Little Dose of Something

**---GG---**

My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me?

So I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst,

to break or bury, or wear as jewelry.

Whichever you prefer

**---GG---**

I was Tristan Orion Dugrey – and I always managed to get what I wanted. I could scheme, flirt, date, and fuck with the best of them – but for some idiotic reason – a reason I would never fully understand, I didn't want to scheme with Rory. I already flirted, and God knows I'd drop my pants in seconds if it was Rory Gilmore under me – but the scheming wasn't a part of my agenda.

Yet.

"You seem distant," she said, placing her hand on my elbow, and stopping me as the students filed out of the hallways – no doubt to get a quickie in before their parents came home, "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumbled, shrugging, "I just need a cigarette."

"I don't understand why you just won't stop," she sighed, biting her lower lip. I inwardly groaned, and bent my knees to get better eye contact with her. I smirked, and placed my hand on her chin, tilting her face upwards.

"It's because I'm addicted," I told her with an air of carelessness. "I just can't drop it like it was nothing."

"You could," she insisted, pulling her chin from my hands, continuing down the hall, leaving me to follow after her, "It's just a filthy little stick that's killing you. You would think you were too smart to even _begin_ smoking in the first place."

"Peer pressure."

Rory snorted, and looked over her shoulder to look at me, "Yes, because you have so many students in this school that upper-hand you, is that it?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was thirteen and drunk when I first tried it?" I asked, unlocking my '67 corvette with the key, and sliding inside, leaning over the passenger's seat, pulling the lock up for her.

She tossed her books into the backseat, and slid into her seat gracefully, closing the door before turning to look at me. I could tell she was thinking it over by the distant look in her eyes, but I smirked, slid my key into the ignition, letting the car rumble before pulling my seatbelt over my chest. "Yes," she said after a few moments, "I would believe it."

"Good," I nod, "because it's the truth."

"But what I don't believe," she continued, as if my sentence was background noise, "Is why you'd be drunk at thirteen. Isn't that a little young?"

"Not in Hartford. That was considered late."

"And what's considered early?"

"Nine."

"Holy smokes," she mumbled, clicking her seatbelt into the lock. "I hope you're on the list for liver and lung transplants."

"Come on, babe," I leered, smirking at her, "I'm a Dugrey."

"Don't you mean dumbass?"

"That too."

We laughed, and I pulled out of my unofficial driving space. I enjoyed going out of my way to give Rory Gilmore a ride home – in fact, I was expecting her to move into Hartford any day now. She'd told me her parents were planning on getting married in a few weeks. Hartford Society weddings were always a bang and a half.

And since it would be Lorelai Gilmore's wedding, I was expecting a huge bash – I mean, every jackass in Hartford knew that if you wanted a good party with more booze then one would know what to do with, that you would have to wrangle yourself an invitation to a Gilmore bash.

I watched Rory out of the corner of my eye as I took a quick right hand turn on a red light. She squeaked and gripped onto the arm rest, closing her eyes. I laughed, and was greeted with a half-hearted glare on her behalf. I smirked, staring straight ahead, giving the road my full attention.

"So – when's the shin dig?" I asked, stopping at a red light, taking an intake of air.

"What?"

"Your mom's wedding. I'm invited aren't I?"

Rory shrugged, and glanced at me, "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't you be?"

"Didn't know if bag boy would be there or not."

"Ugh," Rory cried, crossing her arms over her chest, "I told you! We broke up!"

I rose my eyebrows, and stepped on the gas pedal, letting out an unconvinced laugh, "Uh huh, and the Pope won't kick the bucket sometime soon."

"Tristan, that's horrible!"

"Hey, he's old. He's gonna die sometime soon."

"Ugh," she sighed, and I heard the 'clank' of her head greeting the glass window. "We broke up, I'm serious."

"I don't think he knows it yet." I said, strengthening the speed as we turned onto the high way.

"_He_ broke up with _me_!"

"And he's a dumbass for ever letting you go."

"Can we just not talk?"

"Whatever," I snapped, gripping the steering wheel harder.

I don't understand how Rory Gilmore can crawl her way under my skin, and make me so vulnerable. It must have something to do with the fact that she was the first girl that didn't offer a quickie in an empty classroom the first time I ever talked to her. I'd all but offered, but she refused.

I took a quick glance at the expanse of creamy white skin she was showing with her skirt. I groaned inwardly, and it took all I could find in myself not to just pull over on the side of the road, and try to have my way with her. I would be lying if I said that Rory and I had a strictly platonic relationship – we'd shared innocent kisses when caught in the moment, but I was waiting for Rory to let me take it to the next level. Man, did I want it to be taken to the next level. I wanted and still want to feel her tightness pulling me deeper inside.

"Ugh," I said out loud, biting hard on my lip, and forcing myself to think of Olga, our fat, lumpy, and disgustingly foreign maid. I shook that image out of my head, and rolled my head on my shoulders, yawning. "Can I smoke?" I asked her, glancing in her direction.

"No," she snapped, still reeling from the less then happy conversation we'd just had. "I don't want to die because of your habit."

"It's my car!" I countered, scratching the back of my neck, "I need a dose of nicotine right now, Rory!"

"Stop the car then," she hissed, turning and looking at me dead on. I could feel her eyes on me, and it somewhat unnerved me. "Stop the car, and I'll _walk_ home."

"You know I'm not going to let you walk home!"

"Well you want your stupid cancer sticks so bad – it doesn't matter what you'll let me do. Stop the car, Tristan!"

"No!" I yelled, pulling my hands off the steering wheel, and running them through my hair before slamming them back down, "Shut the hell up Rory. I'm driving you home. I do it everyday, I'll continue to do it everyday – so shut your damn mouth, and sit back in the seat because I'm not fucking stopping the car!"

"You're so stupid!"

"Right back at you!" I yelled again, narrowing my eyes at the expanse of concrete in front of me. I glanced at the clock quickly, and sighed – ten minutes until I'd pull into the Gilmore driveway.

I hated when I fought with Rory over the stupidest reasons – she was always in the right, and I was always in the wrong. I could never win with her. She was like some heavenly force that knew and had to know everything. I honestly don't know how she became so smart. She was like the female version of Einstein, and that was saying something.

I'm pretty dead fucking sure that Rory has the highest G.P.A. in the history of Chilton – I even think she knocked Paris out of the line-up for it. She had perfect A's in all of her classes – I know, because I had to console her once when she got a ninety-nine on a huge Russian Lit. exam we took earlier this month.

I sighed, and glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, allowing myself to drink her image in. She was amazingly beautiful, which was a pretty surprising thought considering there were a lot of beautiful women in the world. Yet none of them compared when Rory was in the same line up.

No wonder so many guys liked her – she was the epitome of perfection in a body.

"I'm sorry," she said softly as I pulled to a stop in her gravel driveway, "I'm just cranky. I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"It's okay," I assured her, placing my hand on her knee, and squeezing it slightly. "I was just having one of my bitch-fits."

Rory laughed, and leaned over the seat, pulling her things from the back seat. "Do you want to come inside?"

I shook my head, and tapped my hands on the steering wheel, "Nah." I told her, shivering a little at the cold seeping in front Rory's opened door, "I have a date with Laura."

Rory laughed, and nodded, "Another one of your flavors of the week?" she teased, and I smiled.

"No, the flavor of my life."

"Oh!" She squealed, climbing out, "Come inside. I have a present for her!"

I shook my head, and turned my car off, pulling the key out of the ignition and sliding it into my front pocket, "Lead the way, Mare."

She slammed her door closed, and I did the same, following her up the snowy pathway, and up the porch steps. I watched her hips sway as she lead me inside, and shivered, shoving my hands in my pockets. I wondered when I had first thought of fooling around with her, and it all to quickly hit me like a ton of bricks.

I'd _always_ thought of being intimate with her.

"I think she'll really like it…. Tristan?"

"Hmn?"

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

I rose my eyebrows, and tilted my head to the side, taking a few steps towards her, letting her rest against her bedroom door. "Like what?"

"Like I just ate your sister or something."

"I doubt I'm looking at you like you're a Hannibal, Mary." I smirked, and pressed my hand against the door to the right of her head, "I may be looking at you like I want to devour you whole at this very second, but I doubt I was looking at you like you just ate my sister."

I placed my free hand on her sex bone, and smirked at her playfully, letting my eyes graze over her face before letting them rest on her eyes. "What's going through your mind right now?" I asked in a low voice, tracing a circle over the cloth that covered her skin. "What are you thinking?"

She bit her lip, and cast her eyes downwards, in attempt to avoid my eyes. I inwardly sighed, and pressed myself against her a little. "I'm thinking about how much you're niece will love the present I got her."

"Rory."

"Yes..?"

"Would you slap me really hard if I said I wanted to touch you right now?"

"Most likely."

"What if I did this?" I asked, before fusing my lips against hers, pressing myself against her entirely, pinning her against her own bedroom door.

I heard and felt her moan against me – and before I knew it, she was kissing me back with such intensity, I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I sighed, and sucked on her lower lip, letting my hand trace down her leg, towards her inner thigh. I cursed her skirt inside my head, as I parted her lips with my tongue, letting it trace over her teeth, before I battled my tongue with hers.

"Tristan," she sighed, her hand grasping at my hair, while her other twisted the door knob, causing us to both go stumbling into her bedroom.

I steadied myself, and her, before kicking her door closed, guiding her towards her bed, my lips trailing lusted kisses down her throat. I pushed her blazer off, letting it fall limply to the floor, before guiding Rory backwards on to her bed, only to cover her with my body.

I peeked an eye open at her clock, _3:47_ – less then an hour until her mom came home, and I had to pick Laura up from daycare. I groaned, and pressed my growing erection into Rory's soft spot. Just hearing the way she gasped my name was reason enough not to care who could walk in on us.

I hurriedly un-tucked my shirt, pulling it up and off of me, tossing it to the floor. I moaned as I watched Rory slide her skirt off of her legs. I lifted my body upwards so she could kick it off. I knew it was going to happen – and I knew Rory wanted this as much as I did. So we weren't even in a relationship. I didn't care now, or would I ever and she must not of either or she wouldn't be groping me through my pants.

"Rory," I groaned, ripping her shirt open, letting her slink out of it on her own. I pushed her hand away from my erection, and adjusted myself, pressing down into her core, letting her feel what she was getting.

Quickly unbuttoning my pants, I slipped them off after kicking my shoes away. Rory still had her knee highs on, and I don't think I could find it any hotter then sleeping with her while she still had them on. I had created some twisted school girl fantasy inside my mind within seconds. I latched my lips to hers again, and slid my hands with ease around her stomach, and up her back, making to unclip her bra.

"Oh shoot," she hissed, pushing me off of her, and hurrying back into her shirt, "Did you just hear the front do—"

"Rory?"

"Oh no," I smirked as she panicked, hurrying to the foot of her bed to pull her skirt back on. "Tristan, get dressed! My father's home!" She hissed, throwing my pants at me, walking to her door and opening it slightly, "Hold on I'm getting changed!"

"Is that Tristan's car in the driveway?"

"Uh, actually, you just missed him! He walked out of the back door a few minutes ago!"

"Oh, okay."

I pulled my pants on, and buttoned them quickly, pulling my shirt over my head, somewhat thankful I'd been too lazy to unbutton it. "You need to go," she said, pulling a package from the top shelf in her closet, forcing it into my hands. "It's for Laura."

I sighed, and nodded, walking towards her window and opening it, "We'll finish this later," I said, climbing through, smirk fully intact on my face. I winked at her as soon as I was standing on her porch, and made a leisurely walk back to my car, climbing inside, and pulling my keys out of my pocket.

Oh yeah, my relationship with Rory Gilmore wasn't purely platonic.


	3. New York City

**Chapter Three**: New York City

---GG---

**Author Note:** I just want to make it apparent, to everyone that's not understanding this at the moment that this is skipping a _lot_ of time between chapters. Like months, even years. I just hope you all understand that this won't last for very long! Thank you!

---GG---

I close the wrought-iron gate, encasing Rory and me in an iron cell. The lift clanks into action, and I hum inside my mind slightly. As we increase our height, I can't look at her first. I make myself after a few moments, and she's smiling at me like the movie, which was inescapably horrible never happened. Her smile is so lopsided that it's sexy.

I swear, Rory is the only girl that could ever pull a smile like that off.

We'd been dating on and off for about four years – more off then on. We'd been dating ever since the day after we were almost caught in the act in her bedroom by her father.

She'd been the perfect girlfriend for a while – then she went off to Yale and I went off to Columbia. The distance was rough – so I broke it off. I didn't know how stupid that move was until later on that year at her grandparent's Christmas Eve party. We'd ended up in her bedroom upstairs, christening her bed more then three times.

That night was the last time I saw her until that following Spring – she had been dating bag boy again at the time. Well, that didn't last to long after I told her that I still had a remarkable amount of feelings left for her. We were together again within the week, and baby I was happy.

"All right," I sighed, resting my back against the wrought-iron bars, taking in her look, "All right." She laughs, and places her hands on her hips like she's listening to a lame excuse. "What's so funny, Mary?" I ask as I move towards her, stopping inches away from her.

"You are. You're what's funny."

"Whys that?" I asked, focusing my gaze on her lips. They looked unbelievably pouty, and I wondered if she'd used that stupid lip venom stuff my sister is always raving about.

"Because that movie was _horrible_, and you picked it. You have horrible taste, and _that's_ funny."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she says, looking up at me and meeting my gaze with those perfect, dark blue eyes. I'd always thought they were so carefree before – but that was prior to our first big blow out.

It was massive – it ended in her not talking to me for more then three months. That was our second break up. It was rough, knowing that she was dating, and sleeping with other men while I sat around and let all the women hit on me, never taking one back to my apartment for a rendezvous in my massive bed.

We'd fought over her visiting her friend Jess in New York City for the weekend. She had wanted to cancel our plans to go to the Hamptons. I was pissed – I mean, wouldn't anyone be ripped shit over their gorgeous girlfriend going to visit some scum for a weekend without the protective eye of her boyfriend?

I bring my face down towards hers, and she breathes out. I smirk, and make to kiss her directly on her lips before deciding at the last moment to kiss the apple of her left cheek. I heard her groan, and I know that I should be devouring her lips whole by now, but the lift stopped.

"C'mon," I purr, grabbing onto her hand, and wrenching the gate upwards, pulling her into my studio apartment.

It was a simple place—one bedroom, a bathroom, kitchen, living room and an office. I was studying to become an architect and all of my nonsense drawings sat sprawled over the floor of the office. It wasn't remotely cheap – but that's what you get for wanting a studio apartment on the upper east-side of Manhattan.

I didn't pay for it – my father did, and God knows that my family was loaded. The apartment was five grand a month, but being on my own, was worth it.

"Nice apartment," Rory told me as I led her by the hand to the kitchen nook.

"Thanks. Would you like some coffee?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

It's our fourth first date and it's going like it always has before. We'll talk, get overwhelmed by our emotions and wind up in bed before the coffee maker even beeps, letting us know its ready. I nod in response to her rhetorical question, and flip the coffee maker switch on. I prepared it before I went to pick her up four our date, knowing that she'd want some when I took her back to my place later on.

I wasn't expecting sex – it just always happened, not that I minded of course.

"You know me so well," she says, her voice far off, and I can tell that she's looking around my apartment, probably in search of a knick knack or two she'd bought me when we were previously dating.

"Anyone with a brain would know you always have coffee on the mind," I say leaving the kitchen nook in search of her.

The door to my office is open, and the light is on. I know I found her.

I walk across the living space, and towards the office door. My back rests against the doorframe as I watch her, letting my blue eyes settle on the back of her head.

"You? Tristan Orion Dugrey? Have a brain? I must be dreaming," she laughs, turning around and throwing a flirty grin my way.

"You've been dreaming about me, Mare?" I leer, a smirk she knew in high school plastering itself across my face. "If you've been dreaming so much about me, you could have called me up. I would have _loved_ to make your dreams become reality."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"Well what's taking you so long, then?" She asks, moving forward.

I snake my arm around her waist, and pull her flush against me, her chest rubbing against mine. I groan, and bury my head into the crook of her neck, laying gentle kisses there. Inhaling her scent, I smirk, before pulling away slightly, "I didn't want to make you do anything you didn't want too," I tell her, kissing the crease in her forehead away.

Rory raises her eyebrow at me, and I avoid her gaze while I kiss her hair line. "Whatever," she says, pulling away from my grasp, and looking in the direction of the kitchen. "The coffees done," she says after the familiar 'ting' sounds.

"Of course," I say curtly, brushing past her, leading the way back to the kitchen.

I pull two mugs off the top shelf of the cabinet, setting them on the counter top before removing the coffee pot from the maker. I pour her mug almost to the rim, and I pour myself only half that. I'd never been much of a coffee drinker – but when you're with Rory as much as I am, it kind of grows on you. Keywords being 'kind of'.

"Thank you," she says as I hand her the mug of stifling hot coffee.

"No problem," I say, covering a yawn up as I raise my cup to my lips and take a long, sip, swallowing the liquid with a harsh throat.

"Why are you mad?"

"What makes you think I'm mad?"

Rory shrugged, and set her cup down on the counter, before crossing her arms unhappily over her chest, "Just a woman's intuition."

"Well your intuition is severely wrong."

"Ugh!" She cries in frustration, throwing her hands in the air, "Why do you always do this?"

"Do _what_?"

"This! Every time things get good between us, you become this pompous jackass that only wants sex!"

"What are you talking about?" I yell, staring her directly in the eye, slamming my mug onto the counter, letting steaming coffee splatter over my wrist and forearm—I'd worry about it later.

"Forget it!" She snapped, walking away from me, and out of the kitchen, "I'm done with this. I'm so sick of trying to make things better between us."

"Rory," I yell after her, jogging to catch up. "What's your problem?"

"You."

"Me? I'm your problem?"

"What? Are you deaf or something? I think I just said that, Sherlock."

"You're such a bitch!"

"I'm a bitch, now?"

"Are you deaf? I just said that," I hissed, mimicking her. I gave her a glare, crossing my arms over my chest, hoping she would shrink under my gaze. "I think you're scared," I say, raising my eyebrows.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

"I think you're scared of me."

"Fine, you know what? I'm scared of everything! I'm scared of what I saw back when we were together the first time! I'm scared of what I did, and I'm scared of who I am because of what we had together." She tells me, avoiding my gaze by staring down at the floor.

"Rory…"

"But… most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you."

"Rory.."

"But I'm done… I can't do this anymore, Tristan. I know what I want – but you need to figure out what you want."

I feel helpless as I watch her walk towards the door, and into the lift. She closes the wrought-iron gates with difficulty – I can tell by the strain in her face. She bites her lip, and looks at me one last time, before allowing the lift to take her downwards, and back into the streets of New York City.

I sigh, and run my hands through my blonde hair, making them tousled and bed-head looking. I can't believe I just royally screwed up my relationship with Rory Gilmore-Hayden… _again_.

Where the hell are my cigarettes? I feel the need to kill myself off a little bit more tonight.


	4. Fifth Times a Charm

**Chapter Four:** Fifth Times a Charm

---GG---

"What are you doing here?" She snaps, cutting off my path towards the bar. "Why are you here?"

I raise my eyebrows, and shrug, letting a smirk befall my face, "Your grandparents invited me, Mary," I say curtly, brushing past her, and heading towards the bar.

I hadn't seen Rory Gilmore since the night she left my apartment. That was almost a year and a half ago, and I couldn't believe we were still on bad terms, not even speaking with each other. If anyone had the right to ripped shit over that night, it was me. Rory knew I wanted her, she was just too daft to realize that in the heat of the moment.

But here she was, royally pissed over something she had started. I didn't walk out on her that night – she walked out on me.

"You should go," she tells me, coming to stand beside me at the bar before I can order my drink.

"Why, Mary, that would just be rude," I say, rolling my eyes, and turning my attention to the attractive bartender, "Hey there," I say, plastering a playboy grin over my face, "Instead of a drink, can I order your number?"

"Ugh!" Rory cries out, her hand latching onto my tie. She pulls me away from the bar, and into the throng of guests at her grandparent's vow renewal. "Why are you here? I don't want you here."

"This wasn't your decision," I snap, stopping in the midst of the dance floor, grabbing her elbow and stopping her too. "I should be the person angry with you! Not the other way around."

"Oh, don't you even make me the antagonist, Tristan Orion Dugrey!" She snaps, and I feel the attention of almost all the guests turn onto us, "You didn't know what you wanted! I put myself out there! And you did nothing about it—you thick headed bastard!"

I raise my eyebrows, and shove my hands into my pockets, "Because you didn't want me too." I say, looking at her, before turning my attention to other people in the room.

"Don't twist my words."

"I'm not twisting— you're doing it perfectly for yourself."

"You're impossible."

"So you've told me before."

I back away from her, letting her stand alone on the dance floor, before turning my back and making a new path towards the bar. I've never needed a drink more in my life.

I reach the bar, and eye the bartender, planting a smirk on my face, "Make it straight vodka," I tell her, sliding onto a barstool, and spinning on it so I can face the dance floor.

There's a blonde wrapping his arms around Rory – _my_ Rory. I narrow my eyes and shake my head, fucking bastard. He'd get what was coming to him soon.

---GG---

_She smiled at me as she opened the door to let me come into the mansion her father had bought for her and her mother on Eleanor Avenue. She was wearing the 'Hello Kitty' pajamas I had deemed perfect, and her hair was up in a messy ponytail. She looked like she had just woken up, and it was perfect._

"_Merry Christmas," she said, pulling me inside the house by the lapels on my jacket. I smirked, and she planted a soft, tender kiss on my lips._

"_You too, Mary," I told her, slipping my jacket off, and tossing it onto the chaise lounge a few feet away from the door, "Santa treat you well this year?"_

"_Doesn't he always?"_

_I shrugged, and pulled a square, black velvet box out of my pocket with a shiny blue ribbon on top, "Do you want your present?"_

"_Do you need to ask me that, Tristan? You know I do," she grinned, and made to grab the box in my hand, but I held it just out of her reach. _

_I was going to hand it to here when the phone rang – that phone call ruined everything._

_---_GG---

I'd intended on asking Rory to marry me that Christmas – why? Because I knew there was no one else I'd rather spend the rest of my days with. But Jess called. It always seemed like at every moment where things looked like they were going to work out perfectly for Rory and I – one of her former flames stepped in and took my limelight.

I didn't share the attention well, so we broke up.

Breaking up with Rory Hayden was probably one of the worst things I'd ever done in my life – and I had done it twice at the time. Now three ( four if you could call that night a year and a half ago a relationship ). Whoever says learning from one's mistakes makes you wiser was full of bullshit. I'd made the same mistake four times, and here I am – going in for number five.

"May I cut in?" I ask, tapping the blonde's shoulder, halting his and Rory's dance.

"Sure," he says, stepping away, and kissing Rory's hand, "I'll see you later, Ace."

I size the blonde up with my eyes, and take his place, wrapping my arms possessively around her waist, settling my hands on her hips. "Who was that?" I ask, staring down into the pools of blue eyes I hadn't seen in so long.

"None of your business," she snaps lowly, avoiding my gaze. "Why are you doing this?" she asks after a moment's pause.

I shrug my shoulders, and let out a breath of air, "I was stupid."

"Was?"

Now where had I heard that line before? "Fine, I still am." I groan, and rest my forehead against hers, willing a slap to the face if this is too affectionate for her, "I always do stupid shit, Mare. It's part of who I am."

"Obviously."

"C'mon – you know what they say."

"No – what do they say?"

"Fifth times a charm."

Rory laughs, and steps closer to me, and I know I won her affections – yet again. I smile, and kiss her temple, "Go on our fifth first date with me next Friday?"

"I'll have to check my social calendar. Say I am free, what are we doing?"

"Now if I told you Mary, would I be living up to my charm?"

"You'd be degrading it," she agreed, smiling up at me, her blue eyes twinkling under the dim, candle lights of the chandelier hanging over our heads.

---GG---

I don't know how Rory and I wind up making a discrete exit out of the main hall, and into the hall way that leads to the hotel rooms up above. Obviously her grandparent's would want the swankiest hotel in all of New York City for their vow renewal.

The Waldorf Astoria was an amazing hotel – and I'd be spending an amazing night within it with the beautiful girl on my arm.

We make our way through the lobby, exchanging small, sometimes longer kisses every few moments. I smile and take her left hand, and entwine her fingers with mine.

She leads me into the elevator, her gentle form pressing me against the back wall as soon as the doors close. She kisses me, and I know that I won't object to kissing her back while the elevator surveillance camera watches.

Her mouth is so warm, and inviting, I just can't help but lose myself in her embrace. She tastes like alcohol and vanilla.

I glide my tongue over her bottom lip, begging for entrance into her mouth and she quickly obliges my plea. I groan when my tongue slides against hers, and she presses her lower part of her anatomy into mine. Rory doesn't know how much she drives me crazy.

I pull away, and hear her groan in frustration, "Elevator stopped," I explain, picking her up into my arms and carry her out of the elevator.

Her legs encase my waist between them as she fuses her lips to my throat. I groan and quickly press her against the wall where it's vacant of a painting. She gasps when I grind my groin into hers, and suck the blood to a tender spot just above her left breast.

"Ahem," someone coughs from behind us, and I pull away from Rory as fast as one possibly could, dropping her gently onto the ground. "I hope the public isn't interrupting your vertical here to eternity moment."

Rory's eyes bulge as far as they could from her sockets, and she pushes my chest gently, stepping fully into the light of the hall, "Jess?"

What is this ass fuck doing in the Astoria? Last I heard he was living in some crack house with mold on the ceiling. I wrap my arm around Rory's waist, eager to let him show that she was mine yet again. "Rory? What are you doing here?"

"My grandparent's vow renewal," she answers, a smiling gracing her features. I want to throw up at how she can talk to him like him existing never screwed up our plans – rather, _my_ plans for _our_ future. "Why are _you_ here?"

Jess smirks, and I'm focusing on not lashing out an cutting off his air supply with my bare hands, "Thought I'd go for something ritzy for tonight."

"What's tonight?"

"I'm gonna ask Shane to be my girl."

"_Shane_?" Rory asks, and I look at her and notice the look repulsion on her face.

He shrugs, and shoves his hands into his pockets, "A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do."

"And that includes marrying _her_?"

"Yeah," he nods, and finally turns his gaze to me. I can see the mocking in his eyes as he looks me up and down, probably taking in the disheveled look of my tuxedo and hair, "You must be Dugrey. Rory's told me all about the prick that broke up with her because he didn't want her to come see me."

I raise my eyebrows, and tilt my head to the side, "A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do," I mimic, cracking my knuckles even though the sound and the feeling make me nauseous.

"Riiight," he says, enveloping Rory into a hug, and my blood boils. "I'll keep in touch," he says, before walking towards the elevator and pressing the button.

I watch him go, and grab a hold of Rory's hand, no longer in the mood for sexual escapades, but rather just going to sleep.

And maybe a cigarette on the balcony would ease my mind a bit.


	5. Not Such a Risk Taker

---GG---

**IF YOU ARE CONFUSED ABOUT THIS STORY – READ HERE FOR EXPLANATIONS AND ANSWERS:**

**Author Note: **I see that I've left some of you very conflicted on what is going on in the story, ages, and timelines, and etcetera. I'll explain it all:

**Whyshouldicare1: **Rory and Tristan were twenty three in the last chapter.

**just hidden: **the time line is a little iffy, and I admit that – but just trust me when I write – I have something formed inside my mind – and the timeline really isn't all that important – just keep in mind that Rory and Tristan have been dating on and off for a few years – from basically when they were eighteen or so.

**Coffeemilkshake: **It may seem misplaced – but everything I do is for a reason and it will eventually explain itself.

**RavensWritingProphecies: **I'm sorry that you're confused. Let me give you an outline of what has happened so far: Tristan never got sent away during the play – that was covered in chapter one along with Rory's break up from Dean. Chapter two was Rory and Tristan being somewhat intimate for the first time and almost being caught. Chapter three skips four years into the future, after three break ups between the two – they're on their fourth first date and end up fighting over something they both understand but the audience ( meaning you all ) do not know because it is never clarified. Chapter four – it's a year and a half later then chapter three, and Tristan goes to Rory's grandparents vow renewal at the Waldorf Astoria – Logan and Rory have their non-commitment relationship going – but Tristan and Rory end up making up without ever clarifying why they were arguing in the first place – they end up making a quick exit for a hotel room, but Jess stops them. Words are spoken, Jess leaves. And that's the story so far in a nut shell.

And there you have explanations and all the jazz – so I'm sure you're all looking for your update now:

**Chapter Five: **Not Such a Risk Taker

---GG---

Stretching my arms over my head, I encased the wooden bar of the headboard in my hands, letting a yawn escape my lips. It's kind of hard how long my night was last night, but turning my head to the side and seeing the familiar mess of brown hair – I know it must have ended pretty well.

I inhale the scent of coffee, vanilla and cinnamon off of the pillows and sheets, and smile. Rory always had a way of distributing her smell wherever she touched.

I turn onto my side, and lazily wrap my arm around her waist, pressing my chest against her back. I press tiny kisses along her neck, letting my warm breath caressing her ear, and slide down her collar bone and enveloping her breasts into a warm frenzy.

She stirs in my arms, and I can't help but grin, and slide my hand a bit further south, caressing her inner thigh, and playing with the tight brown curls of hair.

She moans, and I know that she's in the half-way house of being awake and still asleep. I test my boundaries softly, slipping my finger over her folds, sucking on a sweet spot on her shoulder. "Tristan," she gasps, her voice hazy and husky from sleep… "it's early… what are you doing?"

I smirk, and graze my teeth against her collar bone, running my hand up her stomach, and tweaking her nipples, "Playing," I respond, rolling quickly so I could hover over her delicate frame.

She smiles up at me, and raises her arms, wrapping them around my neck quickly, "And what if I didn't want to play?"

I shrug, trailing a path of kisses between the valley of her breasts, before kissing her entire right breasts before taking her nipple into my mouth.

"Mmm," she moans, her delicate fingers playing with my blonde hair.

I move my mouth away from her breasts, before leaning up on both of my hands, looking down at her, staring into the deep pools of cerulean blue. I graze my eyes to her lips, and sigh, contemplating on whether or not I should get off of her, and get my lazy ass into the kitchen to make her coffee.

But it's just so easy – and so far from what I really want to do.

I'm not used to not getting what I want – but with Rory nothing is ever expected. If I expected her to stay in the mood she was now in—she'd do just the opposite and make a mad dash to get ready for the day ahead. I didn't want her to get out of bed; her warmth was keeping me sane at the moment, and if I had the loss of her warmth _and_ her off to the many people that needed her, I don't think I could handle it.

So I place the gentlest of kisses upon her lips, and patiently wait for her to reciprocate my actions. I'm worried when she doesn't kiss me back immediately, but after a few moments her lips move beneath mine, and I groan.

She tastes like sleep, and the alcohol we'd drank the night before. I slip my knee between her legs, just brushing past her soft spots lightly as I slip my tongue into her mouth, running it over her teeth, and gums before meeting her tongue in a battle of saliva.

I want control of our kiss, but it seems that Rory wants it too. I want – need, to be in control of her now. I trail my left hand down over her breasts, and stomach, tweaking her nipples as I went. I slipped my index finger over her folds, playing with her love button before slipping it inside of her.

She groans, and I know I have the control that I wanted.

She's still loose from the four times we'd had sex last night, so I slip my middle finger inside of her to join my index finger. Her hips brush against my hand, and I take that as permission to become even rougher with her.

"Tristan," she groans, and I'm almost topping myself even though she hasn't done anything to provoke my erroticness.

I pull my fingers out of her, and rub them dry on the sheets ( and I make a mental note to clean them later ). I reach over to the night stand but her hand grabs mine, and I look down at her with a questioning gaze, "What's wrong?" I ask, biting down on my lip, raising an eyebrow.

"Let's take our chances," she says, and I pull away. There's no way in hell do I want to take any chances on getting her pregnant – and ruining her dreams.

"Rory," I warn, pulling completely away, and sitting back in all my glory, "I don't want to get you pregnant," I tell her, furrowing my eyebrows.

We'd had this conversation before – and I'm terrified to bring it up again.

I'd gotten Rory pregnant the third time we were dating. We were both terrified – we'd only been dating for a little over two months when we found out. She was scared, and I was a combination between that and pissed off.

Our condom had broke, and I didn't want a baby then – I mean, I had only turned twenty one in January – and here it is in May and my girlfriends pregnant. Rory had had an abortion without my knowledge, and when I found out I was ripped shit – even if I hadn't wanted it in the first place.

Not only was our relationship on the rocks already – but she'd just killed off my baby. We broke up, and I swore that it was over – that I'd never fall back in love with Rory Hayden.

"Tristan," she pleas, sitting up, and cupping my face in her hands, "I'm not saying I want to be pregnant, but if I do get pregnant, would it be so bad?"

"Yes!" I cry, shaking my head, "We're only twenty five! We can't have a baby! We're not ready for that!"

"So what? We both graduated from college years ago – we're engaged! Why can't we be ready for this?"

"_Because_," I groan, running my hands hurriedly through my hair, staring at her in disbelief, "Rory," I try, my voice coming out harsher then I wanted it too, "I love you… I love you more then I have ever loved anyone in my entire life – but having a baby with you, right now – before we're even married isn't in my plans. It's not what _I_ want."

"What if its what _I _want?" she asks, her eyes watering, and I know I've already lost this battle with her. I sigh, and pull her into my arms, pressing kisses to her temples. I groan, and hold her even closer as I feel her tiny body shake with sobs.

"I want us to be married before we even think about kids," I tell her, closing my eyes. "I want us to be secure, and stationed in one place."

"We are. We live together – our wedding is only two months away."

"I know."

"I want a baby."

I sigh, "I know."

"Please?"

I want to tell her yes. I want to see her smile at me like I'm the best fiancée in the world. I want her to make long, sweet, passionate love with me all morning, and well into the afternoon. I want to see her glow, and become even more beautiful as she goes through nine months of carrying my baby, "No," I tell her, holding her tightly against me, "Because this isn't what I want right now."

She sighs, and pulls away from me. I bite the inside of my lip as I watch her climb off the bed, pulling my button up shirt on over her naked frame, buttoning a few of the buttons. "Where are you going?" I ask, laying back down in our bed, pulling the comforter up over my waist.

"My mom's," she tells me as she walks towards the bathroom.

"I love you," I say, hoping that this isn't the final straw for her – that she'll come back, and we'll still be together and not break up for the fifth time.

She stops in the doorway of the bathroom, her hand on the doorframe, and she turns to me, tears streaking down her face, her chest rising highly, and falling lowly as she breaths, "I love you too," she says, a very faint smile on her lips.

I nod, and watch her walk fully into the bathroom, closing the door with a snap after her. I sigh, and grip my hair in my hands, laying fully on my back, and staring up at the wood ceiling.

Rory Hayden was going to be the death of me.


	6. Happy Freaking New Year

A/N: Happy New Year! Surprised? You should be! I decided after a year of nothing, that it was time to finally give you an ending. Hope you enjoy it, and your holidays!

---the Inc.---

Jesus fucking Christ. Why the hell would I ever agree to marry someone-- Especially a woman that's been the rise and fall of my life ever since I met her in our sophomore year?

Pressing my hand to my forehead, I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it. Waking up with a hangover on the day of your wedding wasn't a good idea. What the fuck was I _thinking_? Obviously you weren't, a voice chirped in my head.

Fucking sunlight.

With an agitated sigh, I tossed my legs over the side of the bed and let my feet rest on the cold hardwood of our bedroom floor. Cussing under my breath, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to get used to the sun raping my eyes.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I immediately started to panic. One oh fucking clock. Shit, shit, and triple shit. Flying off the bed, I traipsed into the bathroom and took a good long glance in the mirror. Lovely. Just fucking lovely. Way to look like shit on your wedding day, Dumbass.

I knew I didn't have time to shower. I knew I didn't have time to do anything. I had to be at the god damn church in forty-five fucking minutes. Why the hell didn't anyone call me?

Turning the shower on, I decided a quick wash would be satisfactory. No more whack off for me today. Jeez. I felt like a complete sex-fiend as I stripped down, continuing to cuss under my breath.

---The Inc.---

Making it to the church on time almost seemed like a miracle. It was amazing that I somehow managed to shower, shave and dress myself (and manage to remember to bring my tux, and the rings) in thirty minutes. A new record, of course.

There seemed to be hundreds of people milling around the church, which obviously seemed odd. It was two hours before the wedding started and I knew for a fucking fact that there wasn't a hundred people in the bridal party.

Ugh, I felt like such a pussy. What kind of guy goes around calling a group of people in a wedding, 'the bridal party'? Jesus, I need to get laid. Damn Rory and her mother for being so damn, fucking superstitious.

Stepping up the steps of the church, I looked around for my best man. Of course, of course he'd be the one that was late. Why bother being on time—it's not like my wedding mattered or anything.

Where the fuck was the fucking wedding coordinator? Shoving my tux into a chair, I glanced around and scratched the back of my neck.

I needed a cigarette. I need to smother my lungs in chemicals.

Digging around in my pocket, I found a lone cigarette, and my trusty lighter. Thanking God, I walked back out of the church, prepared to light my mistress on fire when I was interrupted. By who?

The god damn, fucking –"Oh no, Mr. Dugrey—Ms. Hayden requested that you don't smoke before the wedding,"—wedding planner. Stupid bitch; if Rory didn't love her so much, her ass would be fired with a fucking blowtorch.

She snapped my cigarette and lighter from my hands, and tossed them (carelessly) into her blazer pocket, "Now!" She chirped like the insipid, insufferable, cheeky woman she was, "Where's that tux of yours? You did remember it, didn't you?"

I wordlessly pointed to the heap of black fabric that remained on the chair. "There." I muttered.

"Oh dear," she clucked, shaking her head and gathering it into her arms, "These wrinkles just won't do!" she pressed her finger to something, and as soon as I realized that it was the button to activate her _head-set_ (honestly, I better not be fucking paying for that inane bullshit), she was ordering some idiot named Jose to come get the tux and get it steamed.

Man, was this fucking day going to be amazing or what?

---the inc.---

I did it. I was married. And married to whom? Mary. The Mary of Chilton. Jesus Christ, I was going to have a perma-hard-on, remembering her in that private-school girl uniform. Shivering, I grinned at my _wife_ and did as the priest said; kissed my fucking drop dead gorgeous wife firmly on the lips.

I pulled away and she smiled at me with the most light I'd ever seen. We somehow managed to make it.

Taking her hand in mine, I winked, and leaned conspiratorially towards her, "How do you feel, Mar? How do you feel being married to God?"

She snorted, and smacked me lightly on the arm before pressing a glossy kiss to my lips, "I feel slightly naughty, if you must ask."

I smirked, and draped my arm around her shoulder. I felt like I was on our way to our senior prom. The last time we'd ever walked like this when dressed like this was our prom—Viva Las Vegas was our theme. Rory and I had gotten hitched in the mock-up wedding chapel built in the middle of our gym.

Jesus fucking Christ. I'm fucking married and I'm not heading for the fucking hills yet.

"I love you," she told me as we settled into my 1967 corvette— the 'just married' cliché sprawled on a sign duct taped to the trunk.

"I love you too, babe," I smirked, pressing a sloppy kiss onto her lips as I revved the engine of my rebellion-laced teenage years car. So many memories made in this shiny piece of metal.

I almost wished it had a backseat, so I could have my dirty way with her right then and there—but something tells me the missus still wouldn't conform to having sex, for the first time as a married couple, in a car.

Hmn, well maybe in a broom closet at the Waldorf.

---the Inc.---

"_I don't like this whole idea of going in theme, Rory," I groaned, running a hand through my hair as I watched her pull black fishnets up her right leg. "Why can't we just… oh, I don't know, dress like it's any other normal get together?"_

_Scrunching her nose up in distaste, she pulled the other fishnet on, "_Because_," she stressed, "it's a themed New Year's Party—and the theme just happens to be Las Vegas!"_

_I sighed, and dropped onto the chaise lounge at the end of her bed, "But we did that whole Vegas thing for prom!"_

"_And that was fun, so we're doing it again!" she grinned, winking at me as she stood, and turned her back towards me. "Lace up my corset will you?" she asked innocently, holding the boned fabric at the chest. _

_I groaned, my pants suddenly feeling very tight, and obliged. When I'd become so pussy-whipped by this girl, I did not know—but it happened. Jesus Christ… Could her costume be any skimpier? "Why can't we just stay in, and bring in the new year doing something alone?"_

"_Like what?"_

"_Oh, I don't know, having sex on every imaginable surface in your apartment?"_

"_Wow, you make it seem so romantic. Please, oh please. Take me right now! I don't think I could handle another second without you ravishing my body!" she teased. Damn her, damn her, damn her to the depths of hell for teasing me at a time like this, when I actually needed to fuck her out of her bloody mind. _

"_Well when you put it like that," I hissed into her ear, before latching on a particularly sensitive part of her neck._

_I brooded my hands from the strings of her corset, to the flat plain of her stomach before I continued my continental exploration of the rolling hills. Palming them through the fabric, I pressed my front side into her backside, and began an assault on her shoulder._

_I knew she was growing hot and bother, so I kicked it up a notch and sent a hand from her breast, all the back down her stomach and in-between her legs. "C'mon, baby," I purred, slipping my finger under the satin of her panties, "moan for daddy."_

_Dirty talking always seemed to turn her on, and before I knew, an assault had begun on _my_ crotch, through my pants by _her _hand._

_Tilting my head back, I let out a guttural moan, and let my finger rest on the inside of her panties. "Baby," I groaned, dropping onto the chaise lounge, "baby, slow down."_

_Grabbing her hands, I pulled her down on top of me, allowing her to sit in my lap. I bucked my erection up into the soft spot between her legs, and smirked when she let out a pleasurable hiss. _

_As soon as this foreplay had begun, it had ended. _

_How she could be so unaffected by that always astounded me. Fucking women and there… fucking control over me. _

_Running a hand through my hair, I watched her as she turned back to me, "Will you make coffee so it's ready for tomorrow morning?" she asked sweetly, going to slip on her heels._

"_Mar, I don't know if we remembered to buy coffee this morning."_

"_What!" she shrieked, hobbling out of her bedroom and down the hall, her other shoe lay forgotten by the side of her bed._

_Getting up and going after her, I couldn't help but chuckle at the item that awaited her in the kitchen. _

"_Tristan," she cried. "Tristan!"_

_Strolling into the kitchen, I quirked an eyebrow, "Yes, dear?"_

"_Wha…what's that in the coffee tin?" she asked. I knew she wouldn't divert her eyes from the canister until I told her._

"_What's what in the coffee tin?"_

_Gasping, she turned and pointed her finger at me, "You're not!" she cried, shaking that lovely finger at me that was earlier assaulting my hard-on, "Tell me… tell me it's a mistake!"_

"_What's a mistake?" I asked—Jesus fucking Christ, messing with her head was thrilling. I walked towards her and peered over her shoulder, taking in the lovely carat that assaulted my eyesight. "No, it doesn't look like it's a mistake." I said innocently, pinning her against the counter. "So what do you say?"_

"_Say to what?"_

"_Yes or no?"_

"_Ask me the question, and I'll tell you the answer."_

_Plucking the object of our conversation from it's bland background of Foldger's coffee beans, I blew off the remaining excess of them, and slowly bent down on one knee. "What do you say to making an honest man out of me?"_

_She bit her lip in that quirky, adorable way and glazed her eyes over the rock in my hand, "I say…"_

"_Yes?"_

_Her eyes glanced at the clock, and she further shrieked, "I say Happy New Year!" she laughed before pulling me off the floor, and out of my kneeling position. She grinned, crushing her lips against mine in a such a bruising kiss that I was sure I'd be reeling afterwards._

_After a moment or two, she pulled away and brushed her hand over my cheek. I quirked an eyebrow, yet again, and looked down to the ring in my hand, "So?"_

"_Are you that much of a dolt, Dugrey?" she teased, "Yes!"_

"_Yes?"_

_She rolled her eyes at me, and pointed to the ring in my hands, "Put the damn ring on."_

_I grinned, and kissed her fully on the mouth before slipping that diamond onto her finger._

---the Inc.---

When had I become such a sucker for happy endings?

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_Don't blame me for something I can't change_

_It's not my second nature to be good like you_

_Let's walk around the problems that I've made_

_'Cause whatever happens you'll still, love me too_

_Forget to pick the clothes up, accidentally break your cup _

_Why stop I'm on a role_

_I'm trying to do good get in a better mood _

_Then we can really tear up the floor_

_Well, things haven't changed, baby, I'm still the same _

_I'm not perfect and you should be glad_

_Take one look and listen to me play _

_And you can see I'm not half bad_

_Run around day and night barely never time to fight _

_We're different from all the rest_

_How do you do it, putting up with me_

_Let me tell you baby you're the best_

_Well, it makes no sense having us apart_

_You'd have to see it or you'd be blind_

When we're together I'm so confused 

_When we're apart your on my mind_

_**-- Tyler Hilton; Don't Blame Me.**_


End file.
